


Passions Rise and The Proud Fall

by jaimesselfishmachines



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-08
Updated: 2016-02-08
Packaged: 2018-05-19 04:37:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5953891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaimesselfishmachines/pseuds/jaimesselfishmachines
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Us Virginians have to stick together.” Madison purred.<br/>It wasn’t so brazen that Thomas could call him out on it, but it was just suggestive enough to leave no room for confusion. But Thomas was very confused. James Madison was very attractive, yes, but Thomas didn’t even think of him being gay. Let alone being interested in him.</p><p>Ever wondered how Power Couples rise and fall from grace?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Passions Rise and The Proud Fall

**Author's Note:**

> This is a lone work, free from all other Jefferson/Madison fics I've written.  
> It was prompted by an anon on my tumblr.

Thomas stood in his office in a complete and utter state of shock, staring at James Madison. He didn’t understand. He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes until he could only see sparkles. When he was silent for another two minutes, Madison piped up.

“Us Virginians have to stick together.” Madison purred. It wasn’t so brazen that Thomas could call him out on it, but it was just suggestive enough to leave no room for confusion. But Thomas was _very_ confused. James Madison was very attractive, yes, but Thomas didn’t even think of him being gay. Let alone being interested in him.

“Mister Madison, I-“

“Mister Secretary,” James stood, stepping closer and closer to Thomas, “would you  _accompany_ me to the Statesman’s Ball?” James touched the back of his palm to Thomas’s face, and let his fingers tuck a ringlet of hair behind Thomas’s ear. “So?”

Thomas opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again. Unsure of what to say, he nodded, his chest tight as he watched James’s eyes darken with desire. James smirked, stepping away from Thomas.

“See you tomorrow, then. 8pm. It’s a black tie event.” James winked at Thomas, turning to leave, “I’m sure you’ll look just lovely regardless.”

* * *

There are too many people here, too many conversations, too many perfumes and colognes, too much food, too much vapid chatter. His collar’s too tight, and he pulls at it uncomfortably. At least seven people have come up to schmooze in the last five minutes. He knows there was a reason he didn’t come to these things; he hates everyone here. The woman standing in front of him is still talking about some public-private sector partnership, and Thomas just nods politely along with it. Thank god James is there to rescue him.

“Sorry, ma’am. I need to borrow my boyfriend for a while.” James grabs Thomas’s arm, leading him away. Thomas is practically dragged round the corner and into the men’s room.

“Boyfriend!” Thomas exclaims, absolutely livid, “What the fuck, James?” It wasn't as if people didn't know, but you don't get very far in certain circles by tattooing the word 'GAY' on your forehead with rainbow stencil.

James shrugs, leaning against the sink. “You looked like you needed to get away. You’re welcome.”

“Thanks,” Thomas sighs, reluctant, “I hate coming to functions like this.”

“So do I.” James closes in on Thomas, pinning him against the mirror with his weight, “But there’s so many hot guys; how can I pass up such an opportunity?” Thomas surveys James’s demeanour, seeing his eyes darken the same way they did yesterday. James runs and hand through Thomas's hair and Thomas gives in, cupping James’s face in his hands and pressing their lips together with a sense of urgency he’d never felt before. James hums happily, breaking the kiss. His fingers yank the bowtie off Thomas, deftly undoing the buttons that hide Thomas’s flesh. He wants his lips to touch every part of the Secretary of State, starting with the man’s beautiful neck.

“James, no.” Thomas says quietly. James stills. “I’m not sleeping with you.”

“Okay.” James takes a single step back, holding his palms outward in surrender. He begins re-buttoning Thomas’s shirt, “I’m sorry, I misconstrued…” James hands back the bowtie, watching Thomas carefully.

“Yeah.” Thomas slipped the bowtie back under his collar, fingers weaving – under, over, through – until a perfect and precise knot lay flat in front of his neck. He exhaled slowly, wanting his heart rate to slow to normalcy. He knew nothing about James, and this man should not be able to elicit such a reaction from him. “Let’s go. I’m waiting for Hamilton to do something stupid.”

James smiles warmly, “Hey Thomas,” Thomas turns around in the doorway, “Go out with me.”

“We’re out now.” Thomas comments, gesturing vaguely.

“I mean, on a real date.” James clarifies, “Maybe next week?” His eyes are soft, and he prepares himself for the inevitable rejection.

“Sure. I don’t see why not.” Thomas says, walking back down the hall. Unseen by Thomas, James grins like an idiot and lingers in the doorway. “You coming?” Thomas asks.

“Of course.” James spends the rest of the night rubbing elbows with the elite, creating a network of campaign funding opportunities. It was the fancy method of asking for money when you aren’t even poor. Thomas spends the rest of his night drinking champagne with the foreign Secretaries and Ambassadors and talking shop. He couldn’t wait till next week.

* * *

 

James sipped at his beer. James chose this place for the sole reason of it being opposite to the Ball. It was more informal, allowing James to wear jeans and a hoodie without earning disapproving glances. Trust and believe, however, that Thomas did not know the meaning of casual. When Thomas walked in, the first thing James saw was the shiny leather shoes. James rolled his eyes – Thomas was too adorable for this world.

“James.” Thomas greeted James with a tired smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He sat in the chair offered to him, directly opposite James.

“Thomas, what’s the matter?” James asked, eyebrows drawing inwards. He didn’t like the idea of Thomas being anything other than happy. “Did something happen?”

“No,” Thomas said, “no, everything’s fine. It was just a long day.”

James sensed deception in Thomas’s voice, but doesn’t question any further. If Thomas wanted to tell him, he would. “What would you like to drink?”

“Uh…just coke is fine.” Thomas said, “How was your day?”

James smirked, and gulped down some more beer, “You should know.” He smiled, “Same old, same old. I am, however, writing the Federalist Papers with-“

“Jay and Hamilton; how’s that going?” Thomas fiddled idly with a stray ringlet of hair, sighing quietly. He wished he could smile naturally, and didn’t make James so uncomfortable.

James chuckled, “Hamilton isn’t as bad as you think, y’know, once he stops talking.”

Thomas’s mouth turned upwards, “Which is practically never!” Thomas’s smile slid into warm laughter, the sound was a melody, suave and mellow, and music to James’s ears. Thomas’s eyes twinkled and James watched in delight.

“You’re absolutely beautiful, Thomas.” James mused.

Thomas blushed, “Thank you.”

The server waltzed over and Thomas ordered the steak and fries; James hesitates before ordering a burger, with extra bacon, and fries. The conversation strayed away from work and onto more personal matters. They both spoke about their families, bonding over their large number of respective siblings. Neither of them had to struggle with money growing up, and apparently lived near each other as children in Virginia. The meal passed in comfortable chatter, and by the end, Thomas was in high spirits. He still doesn’t know how James did it.

James insisted on paying, “I asked you out,” instead of going half-half. Thomas left the tip. With an arm around James’s shoulders, Thomas escorted James to his car.

“I had a great time, James. Thank you.” Thomas said, scratching at his scalp nervously. Would it be too forward of him to grab James's hoodie and pull the man into a kiss? “You sure you good to drive?”

“So did I.” James grinned. “Absolutely. Get home safe – call me when you get there.” Thomas nodded once, and James let their lips brush chastely. “I’m glad you had fun. See you soon?”

“Definitely!”

 

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

“Thomas,” James said the name like a warning, “gimme your keys.” The moon gave much needed illumination to the dimly lit car park. James didn’t like public quarrels, as a matter of fact, he hated them. He much preferred to sort things out in private but Thomas wasn’t sober enough for that option to make sense. James really should have kept a better eye on Thomas, but it was too late now. Thomas had staggered out of the restaurant in a manner so ungraceful that James could have mistaken him for Hamilton.

“No.” Thomas began, “’is my car.”

“I’m not letting you drive drunk! You’ll get yourself killed!” James hissed, reaching up to grab at the keys again. It was in vain, as Thomas was much taller than him.

“I’m good!” Thomas protested, still holding his keys out of reach of James. He was sober as a judge. So what, he may have tripped a few times on his way out, and couldn't exactly remember what happened ten minutes ago, but he was sober and goddamn James for thinking otherwise.

“Thomas, I love you and I will not allow you to make the dumbest decision of your life, do you understand me?”  Thomas finally relented and allowed James to shuffle him into James's waiting vehicle. He took Thomas to Montpelier. When Thomas looked at James in confusion, James responded: “I’m not leaving you unattended. Who knows what could happen?”

They find out _what could happen_ when Thomas spends the night throwing up; James cleans it up without complaint. In the morning, when Thomas’s bad decisions are compounded by a headache, he pads his way downstairs. The carpet is plush beneath his feet and he curls his toes into the material. Peeking into the kitchen, he spots James reading the morning paper and eating a breakfast bagel.

“Morning,” He says sheepishly, cheeks hot.

“Morning. How are you feeling?” James puts down his bagel, diverting his full attention to Thomas. Thomas looked virtually no different from the night before except for the wrinkles and stubble.

“Better.” He felt fresher than before, “Why am I still wearing this? How did I even fall asleep in this? It’s so tight.” Thomas unbuttoned his shirt, giving James a view of his sculpted chest and toned abs.

“Well,” James felt his dick stir at the sight, “you were pretty drunk last night. I didn’t want to freak you out by undressing you.”

“You’ve seen me naked before.”

“And you were sober before.” James shot back. “You want breakfast?” Thomas sat at the table, picking an apple from the fruit bowl and biting into it.

“I’m sober now.” Thomas winked, leaning in close to James.

“I have to be in the office in half an hour.” James stood, folding his arms.

“I can make you cum quicker than that.” Thomas said shamelessly. He yelped as James lay a firm hand on his arm and practically dragged him upstairs. _Thomas would have to skip breakfast_.  
Thomas sinks to the floor almost as soon as the door closes, taking James’s dick from his pants. Thomas allows his tongue to circle the head, and James curses Thomas’s skill at making him fall apart. He keeps balance on the wall above him, palms pressing into the smooth painted finish of the bedroom. His fingertips attempt to clutch onto non-existent crevices in the wall as Thomas begins to swallow around him. He buzzes with sensation, the little vibrations travelling up his legs, he can feel it build in his back. The warm wetness swirling his cock bobs in time with Thomas’s hand. And god, whenever Thomas touches him…

“Thomas…” James moans. His climax tears through him, and without the wall for support, his shaking knees would have brought him down. James pulls Thomas up by his shirt, kissing him lazily. “Fuck you.”

“I told you I could.” Thomas grins wildly. “You’ll fuck me later.” Thomas playfully smacks James on the ass. “Off you go, golden boy. You could still make it before Hamilton.” James pulls Thomas back in for a cheeky kiss.

“I love you, Thomas.”

“I love you too.”

 

* * *

* * *

 

James murmurs in his sleep, awoken by a strange sound. “Thomas, you okay?” He turns around to see Thomas staring at his phone.

“Mhmm.” Thomas replies absent-mindedly, chewing on his lip. He looks up from his phone, and turns on the bedside lamp. James blinks repeated, trying to get accustomed to the brightness, “We’ve been chosen for People Magazine’s Power Couple of the Year Photo-shoot. It’s in the morning.”

“Which is why you woke me up at…2am?” James rolls his eyes, “Goodnight, Thomas.” He says, irritable.

“Night.”

 

“I don’t remember agreeing to this.” James snipes. It’s six o'clock and he’s still upset about being woken up four hours prior. He glares at Thomas, who’s already dressed in a tux. Goddamn it, he looks so hot, that James wants to rip it off him. Unfortunately for James, they wouldn’t have enough time to get ready again.

“Well, you did. Now, get your jacket on.” Thomas pouts, “You said you would!” Thomas tugs at his collar nervously. He couldn’t go by himself – how would that look?

“I’m coming. Start the car. It’s fucking freezing out there.” James stays stone-faced the entire ride, despite Thomas’s attempts at cheering him up. “I’m doing this under duress.”

“I know, honey.” Thomas looked down sadly. Maybe he should call it off. He shakes the thought out of his head. It’s too late now. The Power Couple climb out from the vehicle, brushing snowflakes from the shoulders as they stroll into the studio. They are greeted by a skittish studio assistant who fumbles over their official titles. James laughs it off as they are lead through a series of corridors into the shoot room.

“Good morning! Mr Secretary! Senator!” A cheery-faced, balding man of advanced years greets them with a smile so forced it could rival The Joker.

“Mr Roberts!” Thomas smiles, shaking the man’s hand, “Pleasure to see you again. Shall we get down to business?” Roberts nods, and gestures to the cameraman.

The first shots are individual, with James and Thomas striking steamy power poses, and staring directly into the camera. The next shots have Thomas wrapping his arms around James from behind, as instructed. Thomas takes it as an opportunity to do as much stupid shit as he can it make James laugh. It works, and Thomas marvels at how beautiful James looks with his head thrown back, and a carefree smile on his face.

“James. Will you marry me?” Thomas gets down on one knee, velvet box in hand. The ring is a simple silver band, and James loves it.

“Yes! Of course!” Thomas slips the band onto James’s finger, and stands to kiss him. “You planned this all out, didn’t you?” Thomas smiles into the kiss.

“Mhmm.” Thomas murmur, “Still under duress?” James laughs shaking his head.

“Of course not.” James kisses him again and the cameras flash.

* * *

 

“‘ _Secretary and Vice President: How Madison and Jefferson Became the World’s Most Powerful Couple’,_ has a nice ring to it, huh?” Thomas mused, playing with the ring Madison had gotten him. It almost matched James’s, except his ring had Thomas’s initials engraved instead.

“Sounds good, Thomas.” James’s reply was off-hand, and Thomas could tell James wasn’t really listening. “I have to go.” James stood abruptly, sniffling.  _How was he still sick?_

“Well, have a…” Thomas was cut off by the door slamming. Thomas sighed. James always had some important meeting to go to. Work was priority to James now, and he was almost never home. And even when James was home, it was like he wasn’t. He stayed locked up in his study, only venturing out to eat, or give Thomas an obligatory kiss. God only knows what happens behind that mahogany door - James made it more than clear not to intrude on his personal space. But when did James's space mean the exclusion of Thomas?  
Thomas tried not to think the worst. Of course James still loved him. James was not cheating on him. James only leaves at 3am for work meetings. That James's near-constant sour moods, and the way he shuts Thomas out is just work-related stress. That the bruises James leaves on his wrists are mere accidents from nights of rarely-expressed ~~exceedingly violent sex, that Thomas hates and can't refuse at the same time~~  passionate love. Even Thomas can’t believe the lies he tells to himself. Thomas worried the entire day, his mind inventing scenarios to taunt him with. _Was James fucking someone else?_ He worried himself to sleep, and when he wakes up, the bed beside is cold and James still isn’t home. It’s 2pm when James stumbled inside, eyes bloodshot, footsteps heavy.

“Where have you _been_ , James?” 

“Shut the fuck up.” James massaged his temples, groaning lowly. He was in no mood for Thomas’s questions right now. “I have a headache.”

Thomas stood taller, taken aback at how James spoke to him. “No. Tell me where you’ve been. And why you think I’m stupid enough to think Washington would call you in for a meeting at 2 in the goddamn morning!”

“Watch your tone.” James growled, closing in on Thomas. How dear his husband question him like this, “I was with Washington.” He sniffled and clenched his fist by his sides, in an attempt to keep a hold on the situation. 

Thomas’s jaw dropped. “You’re…high. Aren’t you?” He frowned, wondering how James even got his hands on such elicit substances. “You’re high.” _Everything made sense now._

James shook his head, his foggy mind unable to work as fast as he’d like. Unable to work fast enough to get himself out of this, “I’m not. Get out of my way.” At least not with his words.

“ **You selfish son of a bitch**.” Thomas doesn’t move from his position blocking the hallway, “You couldn’t have waiting until after I was finished running for President? That’s why you’re never here? So you can get high on coke?” Thomas’s voice broke, and he stifled the tears that burned his eyes. 

James just needed Thomas to shut up. Shut up. He reeled his fist back, slamming it into Thomas’s face before shoving his fiancé to the ground. “I told you to get outta my way.” He slurred, as if that was a valid explanation for his explosive outburst. He climbed up the stairs slowly, trying his best not to fall. Thomas moved to touch his lip, feeling blood on his fingers. When James saw the blood, he recoiled. "Shit, I'm so fucking-"

“I’m done, James.” Thomas said, cutting off Madison and lifting himself off the ground, “You…” He inhaled loudly, stopping himself from saying something he’d regret. “I love you and you lied to me, over and over again. You’ve ruined my chances of running for office… I’m done.” Thomas slid the silver band off, his fingers dancing over the engraved _JM_. “I wish you the best.” He placed the ring on the foyer, shutting the door behind him. He shivered from the biting cold.  
_Monticello_ wasn’t too far. A winter walk would clear his head anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr is jaimesselfishmachines.  
> Come talk to me! ^-^


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